


Those Are Pearls That Were His Eyes

by laquearia



Series: Repeating History [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Can be read alone, Companion Piece, Drabble, M/M, Phone Calls, Post-breakup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 16:50:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14698338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laquearia/pseuds/laquearia
Summary: "How is he?"Mila could lie, she supposes. She could lie to Yuuri and tell him that Viktor’s snapped back like a rubber band, that he’s smiling again and skating his heart out, preparing for next season.But he’s not, so she doesn’t. At this point, all she can do is slow the bleeding—she can’t patch the wound.(In which Yuuri calls Mila four months after he broke up with Viktor at the PyeongChang Olympics, and she asks questions Yuuri doesn't have the answers to. Companion piece to "We Were Born to Repeat History," but can be read alone.)





	Those Are Pearls That Were His Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> As stated in the summary, this is a prequel piece to my other story "We Were Born to Repeat History." For some background: Yuuri and Viktor break off their engagement at the PyeongChang Olympics after they both fail catastrophically in the men's singles event, and this drabble takes place a handful of months after the fact.

* * *

 

“How is he?”

Mila sighs softly and cranes her neck to catch a glimpse of Viktor out on the ice. He’s standing in the center, dragging his toe pick back and forth with his face tilted toward the floor; his hair covers his expression like a silky silver curtain, but his eyes are no doubt just as devoid of emotion as they were yesterday—and all the days before that.

She could lie, she supposes. She could lie to Yuuri and tell him that Viktor’s snapped back like a rubber band, that he’s smiling again and skating his heart out, preparing for next season.

But he’s not, so she doesn’t. At this point, all she can do is slow the bleeding—she can’t patch the wound.

“He’s… not great,” she finally says, opting for honesty. She picks at the chipping paint of the doorframe with the jagged edge of her index fingernail. “Pretty sure he reorganized his bookshelves again last night. By title length this time—or so Georgi tells me.”

Yuuri’s sigh is tinny through the speaker, but it doesn’t disguise the pain. Mila’s heart aches. “I… I thought he’d be okay by now,” he says weakly. “It’s been months.”

“Like you’re doing any better.” She shakes her head. “Yura’s keeping Vitya busy as best he can, and Georgi takes him out almost every night. We’re trying, Yuuri.”

“I know,” he says. “I know. And I’m grateful. I just thought—” a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know what I thought.”

“You thought that Viktor would be happy without you,” she fills in, voice flat. “No idea _how_ you came to that conclusion, but whatever. We’re here now. No takesies-backsies.”

The line goes silent. Mila winces.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she says remorsefully. She scrubs at her eyes with the heel of her hand. “Sorry. I’m just tired—“

“No, it’s okay.” Yuuri takes a breath and lets it out slowly. “You’re— you’re not wrong. This _is_ my fault.”

Mila exhales and lets her forehead fall against the doorframe with a hollow _thunk._ Honestly, when did she become their go-between? She never signed up for this. “Have you tried just… I don’t know, calling him? All this sneaking around is giving me fits. You and I both know he’d jump at the chance to hear your voice again.”

“I can’t do that, Mila.”

“Bullshit. Give me one good reason why not.”

Another sigh. “He’s still angry. I can’t do that to him. I can’t…” A thick swallow. “I can’t give him hope like that.”

“You say that like hope is a bad thing.”

“Hope is very bad,” Yuuri says wearily. He sounds exhausted, and not just because it’s almost midnight in Japan right now. “I don’t want him to think we’re getting back together or anything. I’m not cruel, no matter what the tabloids are saying these days.”

“Fuck the tabloids.”

“I know. Still, you see my point.”

Mila runs a hand through her hair, noting the split ends that have cropped up since their return from PyeongChang three months ago. She frowns at them. “Look, Vitya needs you, Yuuri. I’ve never seen him like this before. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important, you know that. If you could just _call_ _him_ —“

“He blocked my number.”

That gives Mila pause. She blinks, stunned. “So you _did_ call him.”

Mila can practically hear Yuuri chewing on his words, probably regretting every syllable. “Yeah,” he eventually says, his voice broken in all the wrong places. She hears a soft shuffle, like he’s pulling on the ends of his hair. “I was drunk and it seemed like a good idea at the time.” A humorless laugh. “I’m almost glad he has me blocked, honestly. I don’t know what would’ve happened if he picked up.”

Mila presses her back against the doorframe and slides down to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest tightly. She wraps an arm around them. “I think we both know what would’ve happened, Yuuri.”

Silence falls around them, heavy and cloying. The line crackles over the sound of Yuuri’s pained breathing. In the distance, Mila hears the echo of a sob—the hollow sound of a man without purpose, without will, without _passion_. Mila tries to remember Viktor from six months ago, shining brighter than the stars in the night sky and laughing as if Yuuri had lassoed the moon just for him. Like the world could never hurt him.

She thinks of the broken, wisp of a man standing in the center of the ice a hundred feet away.

She can’t reconcile them.

“We’re not good for each other,” Yuuri finally says, his voice thicker than before. He takes a shaky breath. “It was—“

“Bad timing,” Mila supplies, grimacing. “Yeah, I know. You’ve told me. Doesn’t mean I agree with you.”

“You don’t have to. I know what I did was for the best.”

She snorts humorlessly. “For him or for you?”

A pause. Mila tears at her nails absentmindedly, only stopping when it hurts.

“For him,” Yuuri finally tells her, his voice soft. “It’s always been about him, Mila.”

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaangst. Love it. Bless Mila's soul.
> 
> Comment if you liked it!


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